Socializing Stories: Middle School

This post is the second part in a series on my socialization and friendships at various points in my life. The first post, covering grades 4-5 can be found here.

Middle School is difficult for every student. Kids from all the elementary schools in the district come together for the first time. Puberty begins for most students. Classes become more difficult, and the onset of switching classes begins.

But I tend to think the process goes at least a bit smoother for most students then it did for me. Middle School was my own private hell.

I entered middle school all but friendless. I had Justin, but he trying to make a name for himself, decided we couldn’t be seen together in public. The girls from elementary school were gone at their parent’s behest. Friends who had been children of my parent’s friends had either moved away or become unrecognizable thanks to puberty and the changes that accompany the middle school switch. Basically, I was alone.

In my academic classes, I concentrated hard on the subject material, putting all my effort into doing the best I possibly good. At eighth grade graduation, I took home the certificate for highest average in every academic subject except English. Everyone in those classes were friendly, but even I knew it was only so that I wouldn’t turn down a request to work together on a project.

In my non-academics (wood shop, gym, art, home ec.) the situation was very different. I was mixed with peers from all the academic tracks (no longer secluded in my advanced/accelerated bubble), mostly kids who didn’t know me from Adam, and who were far better at the activities then I could ever hope to be. I had one strategies for these classes: feign total ignorance of anything considered “hip” or “cool”. I knew far less about the latest bands or television shows or sports teams then any of these students, so there would have been little common ground for conversations. But I discovered by acting totally clueless (wait, who’s Michael Jordan again? He plays what sport), I could get people to talk to me, and not simply offer the polite smiles and cursory hellos I got in my academic classes. I was willing to totally humiliate myself just to get someone to pay some attention to me (specifically, I remember there was a kid who called me a cow everyday, and so I mooed at him). My theory there was similar to the newspaper theory: All press is good press. Whether I was being teased and demeaned or simply conversed with, I was happy.

This was also a time period when bullying really heated up. Four of my scientific calculators were stolen. Gum was placed in my hair. I became overly familiar with several lockers, the sand in the school yard, and the taste of my own blood. Afraid of jeopardizing the chance at the little peer attention I was able to secure, I lied to my mom to cover things up. She must have thought I was the clumsiest and least responsible kid on the planet.

Then ninth grade began. Non-academic classes came to a halt. Classes began to be tracked on our transcripts, so the pressure was up to excel. Additional kids were allowed into the advanced program, so I was mixed with individuals who had no notion of my reputation, and thus no reason to even pretend to be nice. I was coming to terms with the discovery of my sexuality, and was nervous about the possible consequences. I found there wasn’t a wall in the school building I wasn’t on intimate terms with.

I slipped into my first and most severe depression to date. I couldn’t sleep, refused to eat, and cried all the time. My grades started to slip, and that’s when my mom first came to realize my world wasn’t as perfect as I was telling her it was. I bottomed out mid-February when I feigned illness and refused to leave my room for a week. I simply stared at the ceiling and begged for death. Surviving that week started my turn around, and by mid-April I began to feel normal again.

And then Kelsey entered my life.
(to be continued tomorrow)